


To Himling: Part Twenty

by vetiverite



Series: To Himling [20]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Brain Injury, Brothers, Coma, Durin Family, Durin Family Angst, Durin Family Feels, Durincest, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Dwarven Ones | Soulmates, Dwarven Politics, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Espionage, Gentle Sex, Ghost Thorin, Ghost Thrain, Hurt/Comfort, Husbands, Intrigue, M/M, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Seizures, Sibling Incest, Sibling Love, Slow Burn, Soulmates, Supernatural Elements, Tauriel? Who's Tauriel?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:35:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24456790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vetiverite/pseuds/vetiverite
Summary: Tensions begin to ramp up in Thorinutumnu as various factions prepare for a clash. Dis proves that she wasn't raised a Durin for nothing.
Relationships: Fíli & Kíli (Tolkien), Fíli/Kíli (Tolkien), Nori (Tolkien)/Original Female Character(s), Ori (Tolkien)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: To Himling [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1429636
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	1. In-Laws

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank everyone for their patience as I continue this long story. It may inch forward incrementally, but it's going somewhere... and that place ultimately will be Himling, just like it says on the package. :)

_(Late as usual.)_

Striding across the courtyard, Nori conspicuously dragged a boot toe along the line separating tree-shade from morning sun. Were Jera right, the shadow would be shorter. Vindicated, he cut his eyes at her.

_(On time. You’re early as usual.)_

Jera raised one haughty brow, a sure sign that Nori’s triumph hadn’t long to live. Of course, no real ill-feeling lay between them, but there had been a great deal of wine, ale, and mead at last night’s feast, and more than one head felt like a well-hammered anvil that morning. 

Staring Nori down, Jera began to play with her rings, spelling her ire out for him in their code.

_(First to arrive is first to depart. You can talk to my Mother before you follow.)_

_(Ah. Revenge. Do you have the treasure?)_

With company present, she couldn’t even toss her head at him, only pull at her finger rings more angrily.

( _Don’t insult me. Just talk to Mother— it might be less painful than you imagine.)_

As she brushed past, Jera’s gown ballooned around her legs as usual. She beat it down with her palms without breaking stride, leaving Nori dazed in her sweet, tantalizing wake.

As soon as his eyes focused again, Nori saw Eira motioning to him. With queenly dignity, she indicated a spot by her side. He understood she meant not to honor him, but to avoid having to look at him while they spoke.

_For all I know, you escape the noose,_ she side-mouthed as he took his place.

_Several, my lady._

_My girl has told me all. It is good for you that she likes you, for you are nothing to me, and I would not even think twice to— DARLING!_ Eira paused to cheek-kiss a passing chieftain’s wife, then seamlessly resumed her aria of spite. _Stupidest woman. Hers is the daughter who dallies with bodyguards. Mine is the daughter who dallies with bandits. Which of us is the luckier?_

Nori wisely kept his silence.

Through all that she had said thus far, Eira’s pleasant mask had not slipped by a shade. But now came the hard frost.

_I made her, you know,_ she growled. _She is hewn of my own breath and blood. I can name every hair that grows upon her sweet head. You, bandit, will never know them all. Honor my child, for I should not wish to sully my knife by cutting the throat of one who is worth less than its handle._

_I am grateful for your mercy, my lady._ Nori truly meant it.

Eira wearily cast her gaze heavenward. _You send me this in payment for my faith, Mahal. Your will is a wonder indeed._ Back to Nori, this time looking him in the eye: _You are in the craft. We have that to talk about, at least. And you serve the Durins, as do we. So work hard and think about my Jera’s happiness, but never forget—_ I watch you.

Nori bowed once more. _I will always feel your eye upon my back, my lady_.


	2. Parley

In Thorin’s shrine-room, Jera knelt first to her late sovereign, touching her head to the floor. If all went well, she would soon would greet Fíli in this manner. The thought gave rise to joy, but also trepidation: could she, so small, carry a king clear of peril by devotion alone?

_Help me,_ she silently implored Thorin. _Help me help him._

A high, silvery note vibrated above her head, and from the inglenook behind her came Dís’ throaty chuckle: _Ah, I knew Thorin would like you. Let’s see what he thinks of your friend._

Jera clicked her tongue twice. A stocky figure slid through the doorway and – after a hissed prompt – made obeisance.

Dís sat camp-style on a cushioned bench by the fire, smoking her morning pipe. _Well, now,_ she called out. _At long last you show yourself. What is your name?_

_I’m Arn, my lady._ The stranger removed his hood, exposing a moon-face edged with babyish wisps of straw-yellow beard. _I serve Elder Harr of Forlindon._

_Not very faithfully, if you’re whispering on the sly. Where is your master now?_

_Waiting in the courtyard. I can’t stay long—_

_Oh, far be it from me to keep you from your duty._

Arn wrung his hood. _I’m doing my duty; to my master and to you._

Dís’ tone hardened. _If one cancels the other out, you’ll answer for it. Begin._

Arn spoke like all soldiers under interrogation by a superior—clipped and factual, free of embellishment. _Strange Khazâd hide in the forests to the south and east of the lodge. They keep their distance and light no fires at night, but we know they’re there._ A pause. _Sunlight glints bright on steel. You can see it further away than you’d think_.

Dís observed him without expression. She, too, had a soldier’s heart. _We, too, have seen them. Extra sentries are already in place. When do you suppose these Khazâd appeared on my mountain?_

_One of the other guards claims that he saw movement on the slopes as we traveled up the Lhûn valley. If he is right, this means they were there before us. He told his elder, just as I told Harr when I saw the sun-glints, but neither of them did anything about it._

_They already knew,_ proposed Jera. _And there’s more. Tell Lady Dís,_ she demanded of Arn.

A sheen of sweat covered Arn’s forehead. _Last night, a number of Khazâd came to the lodge._

Dís drew deeply on her pipe and blew a serpentine ribbon of smoke in Arn’s direction. _You yourself know that the lodge isn’t easily found even in the daytime._

_They knew the way; the elders expected them. They took them straight inside and barred the door._

_Which elders? All, or a few?_

To his credit, Arn did not hesitate, though a sheen of sweat covered his forehead. _Rurik and Darvi._

_And your master?_

_Harr is loyal, my lady; I swear upon my mother’s axe. But Navrin’s convinced him that Ironfoot means your family harm—_

_Ironfoot IS my family,_ Dís tightly reminded him. _And I know Harr very well. He is good-hearted, but not staunch. He bends to stronger wills like a river-reed in a breeze._ She smiled pleasantly. _You, however, are hewn from stronger stone. Your continued faithfulness will be rewarded, Arn— as will your silence._

_Thank you, my lady!_ The bodyguard bowed low, dropped his hood, swept it up, jammed it back on his head, and fled.


	3. Ciphers

Jera waited for his footsteps to fade, then: _What do you think?_

_I hardly know. I like your friend, though. If he continues along the path he’s chosen, I’ll see to his betrothal myself. But come sit; I know you’ve not smoked yet._

_Wait._ From a hidden pocket of her sarafan, Jera withdrew a small beige object resembling a moth cocoon. _It came by wren,_ she told her hostess. _The tiniest bird, to call the least attention._

Having seen many such objects at Thráin’s court, Dís knew exactly what to do with it. One sharp flick of her wrist, and the tiny thing unfurled, revealing itself to be a narrow silk ribbon. When she held it up before the hearth-flame, a rune-row shone forth from its fibers.

_Special ink,_ she remarked. _Remind me to teach Haya how to make it._

_I can, if you like; I lent Bilkha mine_. 

Evidently the chieftain’s daughter who favored Arn had herself been willingly recruited; Jera would not entrust the tools of her trade to one she deemed unreliable. Dís had given the girl’s family and several others leave to tour the summer caverns. If Bilkha had taken the time to send this message before descending, she was resourceful indeed.

Dís read the ribbon once, twice, and let it fall to her lap. A third time she held it to the firelight, hoping to have read wrongly, but looking again and again would not make an error appear. At last she turned to Jera. _Another loyal friend, this Bilkha. I think I’d like to meet her._

_What does she say?_

_Her father spoke with Rurik— or rather, Rurik did the speaking. He urged her father to consider Kíli, not as a suitor, but as a sovereign. Everything you told us is true, Jera: there is a plot to raise Kíli. And Arn also tells the truth: Rurik is behind it._

Jera bowed her head. _I overheard through tent-canvas; I did not see who spoke, as Bilkha did._ _Rurik!_ _Isn’t he from Azsâlul'abad?_

_Yes— but Azsâlul'abad answers._ Dís pulled a pewter message-case from her boot. _Dáin’s personal hunting eagle brought it,_ she told her guest, striving to sound casual. _Have you ever seen their size? I was almost too afraid to go near to collect it._

The cylinder’s soft leaden seal had been twisted open to expose a paper scroll. Unrolling it, Jera beheld with astonishment Dáin Ironfoot’s own bold hand:

> _I trust you received our latest payment. The Zirak-Zigil order is in and requires some haste. Temper the rods and beat them thin, but do not allow them to overheat. Our forgemaster promises you his best hammers by nightfall. The bill follows._

Jera read it through twice without comprehension. _What is Dáin saying?_

_It’s code. By payment, Dáin means the supplies he sent._ Zirak _and_ Zigil _are Ninur and Tharkûn. They’re with him now, urging speed. The rods are the elders, whom we’re to hold at bay until our cousin Dwalin brings his axe-men. They will arrive by the new moon. The bill is Dáin himself, following close behind._

_I don’t understand. The strangers on the mountain are Dáin’s axe-men?_

_No. Dáin’s men are led by Dwalin, our kinsman and friend. He would come straight to me, as would Dáin—never to the elders._ Dís took back the scroll and compulsively wound it in and out of her fingers to mask their trembling. _These Khazâd on the mountainside serve another master. It is because of them that Dáin sends Dwalin… or else, it’s because of Dáin that the elders call their men._

The harp on the wall shivered, its sound box emitting a strange hollow moan. Suddenly Jera felt her own footing shift beneath her. From understanding all, she had gone to understanding nothing.

At that moment, Nori crossed the threshold looking rattled. Jera hailed him with sugared malice. _How is Mother?_

Ignoring her, Nori greeted Thorin – no deep bow, only the touch of a hand to his old friend’s forge-hammer – and sat on his haunches at Dís’ feet. _The lodge is getting crowded,_ he told her through clenched jaw.

Dís handed over both messages. _We know._

As Nori studied the runes, his deep-set eyes glimmered like faraway fires— or perhaps like sunlight on steel. He trained them on Jera. _Say nothing of this,_ he commanded.

_What could I say, even if I wanted to, amrâlimê?_ Jera turned her palms upward _. Can you at least tell me what word not to breathe?_

Despite Dís’ heavy heart, she smiled: that _amrâlimê_ had not escaped her. She leant forward to catch one of Jera’s soft hands. _You are devoted to us._

_Of course I am._

_And your family— are they devoted? Will they follow the will of the Durins, come what may?_

A pained groove appeared between Jera’s brows. _You’ve met Mother—_

_Oi,_ Nori grunted into his pipebowl under the guise of blowing it clean of ash.

_—so you can see she’s no fool. Her people know Dáin too well to lend an ear to rumors. Father’s folk are gullible, but he is not. He has the sense they lack, so they listen to him._ _As for my brothers, they serve you just as I do._ Jera squared her shoulders. _If I’ve proven myself worthy of knowing your secrets, I’ll prove myself capable of keeping them._

Dís took the messages back from Nori and fed them to the hearthfire. These scraps of silk and paper had given up their meaning; they were of no use now except to the greedy flames.

_Go ahead,_ she commanded Nori. _Tell her everything._


	4. Highborn

Khazâd are known to all as a zealous folk, rarely lukewarm in opinion or feeling. Compared to his equal among Men or Elves, even the most equable Khuzd harbors a tangle of passions. Nori – long used to shielding his heart – found emotion in others mortifying. How telling, then, that his voice now cracked!

By love’s miracle – minus one kicked shin – the truth he laid out for Jera did not sunder them.

 _You know I’m as bound to you as ever,_ she declared, grasping his leather baldric with both hands. _I understand why you kept this secret, though it sticks in my craw. But_ – here she shook him like a hound shakes a rag toy – you _must also understand_ me _! On our mountain, we all grew up knowing that whichever way the world turned outside, there’d be a Durin on a throne somewhere. And now…_

 _There still will be,_ Dís gently assured her. _Dáin is the great-grandson of the King whose name he carries. For all he has done to uphold it, our name will do well to endure through him._

 _I hope so, though I’d have preferred Fíli for my King. But now listen._ Jera detached herself from Nori to lift Dís’ hand to her mouth. Her dark eyes gleamed like polished onyx. _Mother and Father are friendly with the elders who speak for their homelands— Stóin for the West, Forekhet for the East. If you tell exactly what you want said, Mother and Father will make sure it enters their ears. If the elders’ balance wants tipping, two may be all we need._

Dís returned the kiss. _We are also friendly with Stóin, and with Harr— and there’s Ninur as well, don’t forget! But I trust you, faithful child._ Then, in pure mischief: _Dáin has a son only two years younger than Kíli, you know. Perhaps your mother should ask about him for you._

 _I’ve already chosen, neither wisely nor well,_ replied Jera, thumping Nori, who puffed with pride. _At least Mother thinks so. If she knew you’d blessed us, it might ease her mind._

 _And spare MY hide,_ Nori mumbled.

___________________

Weary to the marrow, Dís dragged herself to her room, there to sit in the dark and wait for the next knock on the door. It came just as she had tipped back the last of her bragget. She pushed herself up with a groan. 

No feet ever dragged so reluctantly than hers in crossing this room. Before it reached for the door handle, Dis touched her belt-knife’s hilt as if it were a Firebeard’s luck-charm.

 _My hand and my hilt, too, dear lady,_ Eira confessed long afterward. _We two stood blind on the same cliff-edge._

Proud and rigid in her stiff, elaborate gown, the Spur-chieftain’s wife waited in the hallway. She was not smiling. Nor was she alone, for by her side stood Forekhet of Baraz’abad.

Dís froze.

It is true that Khazâd nurse certain aversions. They abhor orcs, goblins, and dragons. They heartily resent Elves, and they curl insolent lips at foolish Men. Yet among themselves, ill feeling runs a far milder gamut; grievances are more likely to end in court than in blows. _Let no strife sunder us,_ goes the greeting. _We are all Khazâd._

Thráin, however, brewed many a grudge in the shadowy cauldron of his mind. He sowed his prejudices far and wide, and while his children strove to uproot them wherever they landed, one or two always managed to flourish on overlooked soil. So Dís discovered as she confronted Forekhet. A trace of Thráin’s old bigotry toward Easterners lodged within her breast, stirring up instant distrust.

The most inscrutable of all elders, Forekhet radiated a quiet dignity rarely seen west of Lanzhindîn. Everything about him was tightly contained, even his hair and beard, braided tight in glossy silver ropes. That afternoon, he wore a magnificent caftan made of mountain sheepskins dyed sacred red, their long white fleece curling from collar, sleeve, and hem. As she stepped aside to let him in, Dís balled her hands into fists to keep from stroking it.

Eira wasted no time. _You see we came quickly_.

 _I must congratulate you,_ Dís presented her with a thin smile. _A child’s betrothal is always a joy._

Spike-sharp, Eira’s eyes bored into Dís’. She gestured to Forekhet. _I bring you the Master._

 _Princess, we know all,_ the elder began _. We come to offer aid_. His resonant voice stirred up an infant memory of fording the Anduin at Ishtherhanâd with her people. In the distance roared the Great Falls, a danger unseen but felt beneath the feet….

 _What_ did he know? More importantly, what did he _not_ know that he wished Dís to tell? _Sieving for gold,_ Fenja called this gambit, one of many she insisted Dís learn. _Everyone expects a witless girl to fill every pause with pretty noises. They think they’ll trick you into giving up secrets, but your tongue will be schooled in silence, like your mother’s. No one ever took from her more than she meant to give— not even your father!_

 _Forgive us, Princess,_ Forekhet tried again, noting Dís’ wariness. _It is from Jera that we learn of your plight. She urged us to come. The House of Fjôl stands with you, as does the House of Bejhet._

 _Who stands for the House of Bejhet?_ Dís asked. It might well open the door to a maze, but it was only polite to inquire.

Forekhet took up the lineage-teller’s stance. _From the union of Tethet Split-tooth and Heira the All-High came to be born Neira, Khurekhet, Tinekhet, Inghet, Bekhet, and Byra,_ he intoned. _Eira is the great-great-granddaughter of Neira. I am the great-great-grandson of Bekhet. Bejhet was my sire; I am his only living kin, so after him I name my lowly house._

Dís hesitated. _You and Eira are distant cousins, then_.

 _Distant— but not indifferent. Our people say,_ Though far the root, close grows the fruit.

 _This is true for my cousins, too._ Dís darted a glance at their silent companion, who stood glaring at a spot on the far wall. _Nori, for example. He and his brothers are to me what Eira is to you._

 _Ah!_ Forekhet beamed. _You see, Eira! Jera chose a Durin after all. She is sensible, is she not? Like you. Daughter came straight to Mother; Mother came straight to me.._. He turned a grave face to Dís. _And I came straight to you._

Relenting, Dís gestured him toward her own armchair and guided Eira to sit next to her on the settee.

 _Ninur’s thoughts you already know,_ Forekhet drawled, arranging himself comfortably. _Harr’s and Stóin’s you can guess, given the love they bear for you._

_Indeed._

_Hala tells me you nobly endured many hurts at King Thráin’s hand, and she praises you greatly for it._

An unexpected wave of relief washed over Dís, for she had long admired the stern Aszâlul’abad elder and wished to make her a friend, not a foe. 

_Gróa and Ghráin remain in Zirinhanâd, governing in Dáin’s stead,_ Forekhet told her. _Yet I think you know why they sit unsummoned. Navrin, Stothrin, Njoli— these dislike the Iron Hills. They also dislike Fíli, but they love the Crown, and they would rather the true Heir wear it upon his brow than…_ Tactful, he fell silent _._

 _Dáin attracts opinions as spilled syrup attracts hornets. So did Thorin; so does Fíli. None of this surprises me._ Dís leaned far forward, hands planted on knees. _What_ does _surprise me is the folly that Kíli should ascend over his brother._

 _Ah. May I?_ Forekhet drew a lacquered smoking kit from his sleeve. At Dís’ assent, he began to fill a delicate ebony pipe with clove-imbued tobacco. _I begin with Rurik of Aszâlul’abad— young and flighty, prey to the flames of zeal. He wants the new and would smash the old to get it. In secret he whispers with Darvi of Malasul’abad, who carries a spite for your elder son. Too like Thorin for his taste!_ He chuckled. _Together, they pin their hopes on Kíli, yet hold him in contempt. They plan ill, do Rurik and Darvi. Of all, fear them the most._

_But not you?_

_The Master risks himself,_ Eira objected. _He pretends to think as these evil men do, so that he may steal their plan for you._

_We of the East never vow ourselves lightly, so please do not refuse him._

Obstinate Dís held firm. _I would accept his vow if I could see it._

Forekhet leaned across the gap to entrust his pipe to Eira. With his heart-side hand, he grasped his beard-braid in the Red Mountain gesture of oath-taking. _We Barazkhazâd see more than we say,_ he intoned. _We hear more than we tell. We know what others do not. The will of Mahal is beyond our guessing— but very little else. What I see, hear, know, and guess, I will give to you as it comes to me._

Dís lifted her chin. _You swear me this, but you also swore yourself to your fellow elders. Would you betray them?_

Forekhet reclaimed his pipe and drew hard to awaken its glow. Pursing his lips, he tilted his head back and aimed a long, thin stream of smoke at the ceiling. When it ran out, he brought his gaze back down to meet Dís’. _Only those unworthy of the office, Princess._

 _I would have my sons hear all this,_ said Dís, reaching for the bell. _I would have Stóin and Harr, and Halfur, too._

After Bhurin had come and gone with his orders, Dís turned back to Forekhet. _Strangers have been seen on my mountain, carrying steel. What do you know of this?_

 _Navrin’s idea,_ he mused. _The steel is meant for Dain, whom they fancy will try to take the Throne._ He studied his hostess with impassive dark eyes. _Your sons do not want it, so the point is moot, yes?_

_Yes. But my cousin’s life is not._

Eira took Dís’ hand and stroked it, evidently abandoning her grudge. _Navrin is a child playing with shiny soldier-toys. The true threat, dear lady, comes from Rurik and Darvi._

Dís gave her a wan smile. _So much danger for a chair and a crown! You see why I could not accept your offer of Jera’s hand for Kíli_.

 _Yes,_ Eira replied. _A lasting oath cannot be struck on an anvil of untruth. Oh, I do not say that you lied, dear lady! I only mean that you were wise in not binding our children together for show._

_Our secret has shocked you, though perhaps not the Master._

_Again, yes. But I must pay you truth for truth. What disappointed me at first, now my mind embraces. Dáin, and not your son, will be King. Yet I think loyalty to you is no disloyalty to him. Is this not so?_

_Though far the root,_ avowed Dís, _close grows the fruit. I hope that we, too, will follow that path._

 _Perhaps not so far as our children. Their hearts are with the common folk._ Eira made a moue of disdain, and her voice took on a sour bite. _Mine’s especially_.

_We in Thorinutumnu trust Nori with our lives. You may trust him with—_

The sitting-room door flew open so hard its latch struck a chip out of the wall.

 _Bhurin!_ Dís laughed. _So quick! How could you have—_

 _The elders,_ gasped Bhurin. _The elders._


End file.
